Fire And Smoke
by TheVoiceInMyHead
Summary: Calling it a person was not right, not with the way it was lying so still and unnatural. It was a body, a corpse.
1. Chapter 1

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**A/n: Oneshot time! Rated T for a little cursing. Enjoy and please review!**

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Fire and Smoke

Ponyboy turned, and then turned again, and turned again. He huffed a breath of air, frustrated that he couldn't get comfortable. It was almost one a.m. and he was tired. He'd had track practice and a science test today, and he was exhausted from the inside out. He threw an arm across the bed to Soda's side, which was empty, and became even more frustrated that his older brother still wasn't home yet.

"I'll be back by midnight, Pony. Don't wait up." He'd thrown Pony a winning smile and dashed out the door to meet up with Steve at the Dingo.

Well, midnight had come and gone. Soda was going to get hell from Darry when he came back, and probably from Pony too. If Soda tried to sneak in through the window, maybe Pony just wasn't gonna open it. Soda could freeze his ass off outside, for all he cared.

Pony threw a glance at the window hoping to see his brother's sheepish face. There was nothing. He sighed and turned again.

Two-fifteen a.m. Still no Sodapop and still no sleep. Ponyboy rubbed his eyes, both extremely tired and worried at the same time. If Sodapop said midnight, he'd be late an hour tops. Two hours and fifteen minutes. Ponyboy contemplated waking up Darry, but decided against it when he realized Soda might just be with a girl or something. But for some reason, he just knew that wasn't it. Soda wouldn't worry his brother for some girl. Ponyboy swung his feet over the side of the bed and put his head in his hands. He needed a cigarette or something.

Quietly padding across the hall into the front room, Pony pushed the door open and stepped outside. Glory, it was freezing. Ponyboy rubbed his bare arms and stuffed a cigarette between his lips, hastily lighting it before taking a deep drag. He held in the smoke for as long as he could and then breathed it out, long and slow. His hand didn't shake this time as he brought it to his lips again.

As he smoked, he squinted down the street lazily, watching his neighborhood as it slept. The wind blew and something rustled with the breeze. Waving away the smoke from in front of his eyes, Ponyboy searched for the source of the noise and froze when he saw a dark bump on the street.

He wondered if he should go see what it is, and deciding he would split if it moved even an inch, he slowly walked to the odd blue lump on the road. He was wary of it, searching for any sort of movement. His caution was in vain though, because as he kneeled beside it, he found it was only some kid's shirt. Blue and red plaid. Ponyboy picked it up and threw it over a shoulder as he walked back to the house, shaking his head and chuckling at the idiot who'd leave his shirt lying on the road.

Then he stopped. He only knew one kid that wore plaid button-downs. And the shirt he had worn tonight definitely had no red on it.

He looked at Soda's shirt in his hands and the red blood stained the skin of his palms. The cigarette dropped out of his mouth.

Ponyboy's head shot up and he looked frantically around him.

"Sodapop?"

Somewhere, quiet and low, there was a moan of pain. Ponyboy ran.

"Oh shit, shit, shit, shit..."

Something was curled in on itself near the storm drain. The legs were curled in on themselves and the arm was twisted unnaturally. He was face down, lying against the pavement and his white t-shirt was barely white anymore. The red was soaked into the fabric thickly and it stuck to his body. Ponyboy's stomach turned and he held back the urge to vomit. Slowly, carefully, he approached the body. Calling it a person was not right, not with the way it was lying so still and unnatural. It was a body, a corpse.

He kneeled down and the knees of his pants soaked with the blood surrounding the drain. His hands were fast and gentle, rubbing the boy's back. There was another moan.

Holding his breath, hoping to God that this wasn't his brother, that he was dreaming, Ponyboy turned the body over.

Through the rapid bruising, congealed blood and cuts almost everywhere, he recognized the disfigured yet handsome face of Sodapop Curtis. His hands began to shake and then his voice began to shake.

"Soda..."

Sodapop pulled a lid open with difficulty and surveyed his little brother. "Oh, Pony," He croaked.

Pony's eyes clouded and he grasped Soda's hands, checking for a pulse, needing to know his brother was still alive, even if it was infinitesimally. There a pulse. Slow and faint, but it was there. He looked at his brother's bloody and hopeless face.

"You'll be okay, Sodapop, everything will be all right."

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	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: So I guess some of you guys didn't understand what I was going for with the last chapter. I was gonna leave to your imaginations, whether he lived or he died. But since ALL of you wanted another chapter, I said "Hell, why not?", so here it is. This one explains what happened to Sodapop. Hope you all enjoy and please please review! **

**AND there's more swearing in here, so just be warned.  
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Ducking out the front door while smiling to himself, Sodapop Curtis bounced down the steps and down the street. Boy, he and Steve were going to have some fun tonight. The Dingo was gonna be in full swing, beer and girls and cigarettes everywhere, and it would be one hell of a party. Soda rubbed his arms, maybe he should've brought a jacket or something.

According to Steve, some greaser kid had knifed a Soc this afternoon and gotten away with the guy's wallet and cigarettes. He was the guest of honor tonight. The Dingo was almost always a party, but having a reason to celebrate made it even crazier. Even if it was just a fight, it was sure as hell a good enough reason to get drunk and get crazy.

He was meeting Steve and Evie there, and Steve had promised there'd be lots of girls to flirt shamelessly with. Evie's friend Rachel was coming too, and Soda remembered that she had been awful pretty.

It wasn't a long distance from the house to end of the street and Sodapop then decided to acknowledge that he was being followed. He had heard it the moment he started walking, a low purr of an engine too new to belong to a greaser. Flicking the collar of his shirt up, Soda glanced out of the corner of his eye. A black, shiny Mustang was trailing him, keeping about a meter's distance. If the situation hadn't been what it was, Soda'd have turned around to admire just what a piece of work that car was.

Instead, he slouched his shoulders and shuffled down the road. It was getting darker out. The Mustang's lights flashed on and Soda's shadow fell into step beside him; his only company.

He stuffed his hands into his pockets, hoping he looked tough, really wanting to hide the fact that his hands were shaking awfully hard. His eyes looked around him for anything to use as a weapon, a bottle or a pipe, anything. The Mustang was speeding up, almost driving beside him now. He looked straight ahead with a set jaw, hoping he looked intimidating.

He heard the car stop. Four doors opened and slammed. Soda tried to stay cool, indifferent, all the while counting the pairs of shuffling feet, the number of menacing voices. He counted five. Shit.

"Well, what've we got here?" One of them drawled. Soda didn't turn to look at him. Another guy laughed, Soda wanted to punch him in the face.

"Looks like the grease that took Brad's wallet. The one that knifed him."

Soda's stomach dropped. The first guy considered this, then said: "You know, it does look like that scum."

The guy's friend laughed again. Sodapop felt hot.

The voices were getting closer. Soda froze in his spot. He sure wasn't as fast as Ponyboy and there was no way in hell he could outrun five guys with a car. He slouched more and bit on his lip, waiting for them to catch up with him. The guys walked agonzingly slow to where he was, and one guy got right up in his face, breathing all over him. Soda didn't blink; he stared coldly at the Soc in front of him.

The guy laughed. "Brad never told us it was some pretty boy. This'll almost be too easy."

Soda's fists clenched, but he didn't say a word. If he tried to deny anything, they wouldn't believe him. Even if they did, they'd still beat him up. There was no choice. So he just stood real straight and waited.

The second guy was talking again. "You pulled a pretty stupid move today, grease. Didya think you'd get away with it?" He had awfully crooked teeth and smelled like smoke. Soda didn't move, didn't speak.

"Mute or something, grease?

They tittered with laughter.

"Did you think you could fucking get away with it?"

Soda didn't answer. The guy was getting real mad.

"Answer me, you piece of lying shit."

The other guys stopped smiling, and malicious sneers replaced the smiles. Their eyes were getting wider, brighter, with the anticipation of jumping him. One guy, the first one, unconsciously brought his hand up to his pocket where Soda could see the outline of a blade. He gulped hard, keeping his eyes on that blade. Crooked Teeth was practically growling.

"I'll teach you a lesson for ever laying your greasy hands on Brad. You wanna die tonight, greaser?"

It was even darker out now. No one would see his body till morning. No one would hear him if he called for help. He was gonna die right here, at seventeen. Knowing he had little to lose here now, Soda decided to finally say something.

"Try it, fucker."

Crooked Teeth shook his head real slow, and a small smile pulled at his lips. The other guy flicked out his blade and it glinted in the light.

Slowly, they closed in on him.

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**I decided to leave out the graphic parts of the beating cause you all can imagine what happened from here. Please REVIEW!**


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